


Selfish

by autumnmycat



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, I'm really sorry about this everyone, Multi, Self-Destruction, Weird Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7972030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnmycat/pseuds/autumnmycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She sometimes appears to have sex with him. Neither are quite sure why, but it probably has something to do with the death of Rose Quartz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selfish

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a disclaimer, I don't ship Pearl and Greg in a way that implies they have romantic feelings toward each other, nor do I think they have any (especially on Pearl's end). I'm just a sicko who likes angst and weird power dynamics.

She is shaking because she hates herself for this, she really does. She hates everything about this _ritual_. It’s disgusting, animalistic, and degrading. 

Yet, she promised Rose she would take care of him.

(She’s not sure if this is what she had in mind.) 

He always seems sort of hesitant, like he doesn’t understand why she allows for these sort of things to happen. Greg is distinctly aware that Pearl is not too fond of him, yet this happens from time to time. She’ll appear outside his van with an air of shame radiating from her physical form.

“Pearl.”

She looks up at him from the ground. He is truly repulsive, at least in Pearl’s mind, but he _could_ be described as _cute_ , if that’s what you’re into. She tries not to think about it too much. This is a mission just like everyone else.

Her hands fumble nervously, but she doesn’t turn away.

She finds herself in his arms and laying on a pile of clothes. She is engulfed in a warmth that humans possess that is unique to organic life. Pearl always feels like she is cold, lifeless. Nothing can make her feel anything other than stone. 

Well, maybe except for her.

Despite his living conditions, he always smells clean, like extra strong soap. Maybe it wouldn’t be pleasant to most people, but there is something about the antiseptic quality of detergent that makes Pearl calm, like she knows things are clean.

“Are you doing alright, Pearl?”

He’s referring to how she shivers slightly, even though she is not cold. She’s nervous.

~~She hates herself.~~

“Yes,” she mutters. 

He looks at her, concern edging into the corners of his eyes. But, he still says, “May I?”

“Yes,” she mutters.

She thanks the stars that he is gentle, that he really seems to appreciate her presence. Unfortunately, she has been at the mercy of rough hands—of soldiers slicing her form into two, of her former lover doing what she wished with her. It was not always kind. 

His hands run over her, and she shivers again, biting back the urge to let feelings and unspoken words flee down her cheeks. She doesn’t undress because she can’t bear the idea that his eyes would scan over her and leave her so vulnerable. But, he does attend to her, hands cupping her chest.

It’s usually at this point that her mind drifts elsewhere.

She thinks of Rose and her wonderfully plump hands (he hooks fingers around her shorts, pulling them down so they hang off her foot), she thinks of her beautiful pink lips as they dragged across her body (his fingers explore her delicately as if she might fall apart in his hands), she thinks of the unbridled euphoria Rose always brought her even though she always hated the nitty-gritty of it all (he undoes his jeans and allows her to mount him).

He watches her eyes _—_ blank, lifeless, elsewhere _—_ and can’t help but think that (THIS IS A MISTAKE), yet it’s a mistake they keep making. Neither of them are sure why. They don’t like each other. They can barely stand being around one another. Yet, Pearl rocks her hips against him, and Greg bites back the noises that neither of them wants to hear.

She’s so thin and delicate. Her hands rest on his sturdy chest. They don’t make eye contact. His eyes drift to her hips, which have gotten used to this motion, so it happens fluidly. She is a dancer, after all, and she has to be able to pick up choreography. 

Tiny words wake Greg out of his daze.

“Do you think about her, like this?”

The question makes him nervous.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

He still doesn’t want to answer. It seems wrong to admit to Pearl that he wishes that Rose was still here, still being the one to offer him affection because Heaven knows that Pearl probably feels the same way a thousand times over.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” he whispers, hand placed awkwardly on her shoulder.

She grits her teeth.

“Yes. I do.” 

“Why?” 

Until that moment, Greg had not realized that she was breathing heavily, that she was panting, that her cheeks were painted turquoise, that her eyes were glassy.

“Can’t you just let me do this for you?”

The words come out as a sharp jab to his stomach. 

(He has a feeling her words were not directed towards him.)

His hands find their way to her hips, helping her along. It seems like she’s having trouble, which is strange considering she has the stamina of an ancient alien space warrior. He wonders if it’s more of what’s going through her head that is causing her to look so out of it.

“Are you okay?”

( _Do it for her/Do it for her/Do it for her/Do it for her—_ )

“Pearl?”

She can make it. She knows she can. She’s survived worse. She can do it.

“Pearl! Answer me!”

Her eyes flick up. She hadn’t realized she had begun to cry.

She tries to stop them, but they are thick and heavy with grief and abandonment. They soak into his t-shirt, which her fingers grip tightly. They plop against the fabric, and Greg looks on in muted horror.

“O-Oh, dear, I’m sorry.”

He gets out of her, makes himself decent, helps her make herself decent.

She finds that she’s once again pressed against him in a weird sort of embrace, but it is more welcomed because the ice in her chest has all but engulfed her and taken her to a place where his stifling warmth is relieving.

He worries because she shakes, practically inconsolable. She cries, and cries, and cries, and it makes the sleeve of his shirt soaking wet. He tries to get her to speak, but she can’t get anything out between heaving breaths and the pained sort of wailing that comes out in waves.

(Greg hates to think that even her crying sounds melodic.)

“Hey, hey, shhh, you’re alright. Everything’s okay.”

So many lies.

“What’s going on, Pearl?” His voice is small and soft, trying his best to calm the gem down. “What’s gotten into you?”

She tightens her grip on his shirt and shakes her head.

“I loved her so much—I loved her so much.”

Her words come out sloppy and panicked.

“I know,” he whispers. “I loved her too.”

“I-I know.” She chokes on her own tears. “I’m s-sorry for being s-so selfish.”

“It’s not selfish to miss her, Pearl. I miss her every day. And, I’m not sure why you keep doing… _this…_ but it seems to be the complete opposite of selfish.”

He doesn’t want to say it, but she knows what he means. To tell the truth, she doesn’t really know why either.

“You seem to hate it a lot.”

She nods quietly, hysterics dying down.

“I would even say that it seems like you do it to make yourself feel worse. No offense or anything.”

Her eyes get that dead look in them again. Words threaten to spill out her mouth—

( _Could have done something/could have been better/could have made her want to stay/could have given more/could have given everything_ )

—but she puts up her walls and doesn’t say any of that.

“Yeah,” she admits. “It makes me feel worthless.”

The words sound terrible on Greg’s ears, but they don’t seem to be quite as alarming to Pearl.

“Geez, Pearl, why the hell are you doing it, then?”

She finds the question bizarre. Why? She isn’t quite sure why.

(All she knows is that hating herself feels so good.)

“I guess I don’t know who I am without her.”

The entire conversation has given Greg a pit in his stomach. She looks so tiny and so sad.

“C’mon, Pearl. Let me give you a ride back to the Temple.”

She shakes her head.

“I’ll be fine.” She removes herself from his arms, opens the door, and climbs out of the vehicle. “I’m sorry. It’d probably be best if we forget this ever happened.”

He watches her leave with a mix of terror and grief.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t come around anymore.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I do when I have writer's block on my other stories ahahahahahhahhhahhahaha


End file.
